Tag: street

Eye of the Beholder
They said that she was beautiful,
In a certain light.
So by day, she hoarded candles,
And lit a few each night,
Or stood beneath a street lamp,
Half in, half out of sight.
She knew it was unlikely,
Yet still, she hoped he might
Be among the passers-by
when the moment was just right.
Then by shadow play, or molten wax
She'd feast on him that night.

It’s the fishnet stockings. I always try to figure out if there’s some message that they’re intended to convey. This morning, it was someone waiting for the bus. Black fishnets, not particularly sexy old black shoes. A non-descript dark knee length skirt. Holding a Louis Vuitton logo tote bag. And then she turned around. A unhappy wrinkled face, a cheap cotton foulard, and OMG, faint pink streaks in her partially fading blonde over grey dye job. This was in a higher income neighborhood, she was obviously not a homeless person. Just someone who seemed to have given up. And the first line came to me:

The remains of a well-kept wife
walked by me yesterday.
Her dye job has been slipping,
since her husband ran away.
Her bag is still designer brand.
Authentic (I can tell).
Too bad the plastic surgery
Did not hold up as well.

I wonder what the result would be if every pedestrian on the sidewalk wore a sign saying “this is not a bike lane.”

Caminante, no hay camino

The cyclist rings to warn me
that he's riding in my space.
If he expects I'll step aside,
he's about to see my face.

I'll tell him loud and clearly
that wheels go in the street,
that sidewalks are for walkers.
And I swear by my own feet,
I've right-of-way, and he does not,
although it makes him mad.

He’s swiftly passed, three red lights run,
and surprise! There is a crash.
The cyclist races off unscathed.
The old lady that he bashed
will take a while to walk again,
but it won’t make the news.
City hall thinks that bikes are cool.
Pedestrians, you lose!

Division of Labor
Sixteen taxis, waitin' in line,
I don't need one, walkin's fine.
They say there isn't work for all,
since the economy took that fall.
I say,
What work is that? Compared to those
Who mop the floors and iron clothes!
When crises come, it takes a man
to see no work where women can.
Beneath your dignity, you say?
Then wait in line another day!

Treasures. This city’s sidewalks are full of treasures. He was impossible to ignore as I walked past him this morning. Barcelona has a silent dress code that makes anyone who transgresses it suspicious.

The gentleman in red plaid pants

The gentleman in red plaid pants
stands waiting at the light.
I wonder if he's dressed for day,
or if those are from last night?
A younger man approaches him,
and whispers in his ear.
Hand in hand, they walk away.
I watch them disappear.
Too soon to draw conclusions,
unless you factor in
the fact his absence is so short,
and it happens all again.